Your Very Own Revolution

“Your very Own Revolution”

What if you didn’t exist? You do but you don’t. You don’t have a social security number, an ID, birth certificate, or even just a card with your name on it. All you’ve got is what you know everyone’s been calling you. In New York City, we have a young kid in a police station with that very problem.
He walks up to the menacing building, shaking. The boy walks into the station close to tears. The place is flowing with all types. There are large marble pillars supporting it, He gets in line to see the woman at the front desk.
After about an hour it’s the boy’s turn. “Hello, how can I help you?”, the amiable woman inquired.
“Um…hi...uh...I’m Iden and I-I think I need some help.”, The boy stuttered out.
“Well aren’t you a cutie, how old are you?” She replied making Iden
“15” Iden piped out in a skittish manner. Iden ran his hand through his long chestnut hair and tapped his foot.
“Such a youngster! What do you need help with?” The woman shot him a genuine and warm smile.
Iden bent down closer to them woman, so no one could hear, “I think my dad left me.” His voice shaky, a few tears fell down his face.
The woman took Iden to the back to talk with another friendly woman who introduced herself as Erica.
“So honey how long has your dad been gone?”
“About 2 months I think.”
“And you’ve been on your own this whole time.”
“Yeah, I had some money stored away.”
“That’s very brave of you. Do you know why your dad left you?”
“I don’t know” Iden whispered knowing it was a lie.
“Okay honey, what’s your last name?”
“My name’s Iden.” He replied, not quite understanding what she meant.
“No, your family name.” She asked again.
“I don’t know what you mean.” He repeated puzzled.
“Okay, what is your dad’s name?”
“Joseph.”
This went on for quite a while. She would ask a question and he would only know half of the answers. Once she was done interrogating him, Erica took Iden back to the front room. She left him there for about two more hours while she figured out what they were going to do with him.
Iden sat on the bench leaning his back against the wall. There was a man on the bench across the room handcuffed to it. A woman was sobbing next to him. The front doors burst open with a police officer escorting a man in handcuffs to be processed. The man had a grey beard, he was overweight and wore a stained white T-shirt with faded jeans and work boots. He looked about 60 or so. Iden jumped at the site of him. He knew the man. He was one of his father’s old business partners. The old man recognized Iden as well and even in his arrested state couldn’t help but shoot a smile at him. Iden felt sick.
It wasn’t long after that Erica returned. Erica took Iden in her car.
“So Iden, I’m taking you to a foster home. They will take good care of you. They have very kind people who just want to help you out. You’re going to stay there for a while. Okay?”
“Yeah, that’s fine I guess.” Iden was apathetic.
They drove the rest of the way in silence. After about an hour and a half they reached their destination. The building they were pulling up to was small and rundown looking. To Iden it felt like his old home. He hated it. He wouldn’t say anything however, he wouldn’t want to make the woman angry.
They walked in, Iden following behind her. Erica walked up to the receptionist and began talking with her.
“Hi I’m Erica I believe we talked on the phone.”
“Oh yes! Of course, we were expecting you, then you must be Iden?”
Iden nodded solemnly. They talked for a while about whatever it is adults would talk about in such a situation.
Erica turned to Iden, “I have to go now Iden, they’ll take care of you here, but I’ll be back in a week to check up on you. Does that sound okay?”
“Mmhmm.” Iden replied. Erica then left and the receptionist asked him to follow her.
She took him to a long, thin hallway that made him feel comfortable. At the end of it was the room he would be staying. She opened the door for him and showed him his bed. There were two beds in the room, Iden had a worried look on his face.
“You will have a roommate of course. I believe his name is Quint. Don’t worry he’s a very nice boy, I’m sure he’ll look after you and you’ll get along perfectly well.”
Iden trembled at the thought of rooming with someone he didn’t know. But he was alone for now while the other kids were at school.
“I’ll leave you to yourself to unpack your--” She spoke before realizing he didn’t have anything to unpack.
“Don’t you have any clothes? A toothbrush? Anything?”
“Well yeah, I have some, but I left them at my old house.”
“Well we have a uniform, I’m sure you’ll find it suitable.”
The woman left quickly leaving Iden to his thoughts. The room was about 7x7 feet. Enough room for two twin beds and two small dressers. He sat down on his new bed, it was springy and uncomfortable. The blanket was scratchy, it was still better than the mattress he used to sleep on. Iden’s thoughts drifted to the old place.
He thought of the meals he ate, ramen noodles, usually once every two days. When he was young, before he learned more about his father, he asked to spend time with him, suggested activities, but he’d just yell and tell him to knock that dumb kid stuff off. Once he had enough he finally just smacked Iden around and beat the innocence out of him.
Iden was lying down on his bed with his hands behind his head, lost in thought when his door swung open. In walked a boy of about 11. He had longish blonde, messy hair. His skin was pale. He wore a green polo shirt and long khaki pants.
“Hiya I’m Quint. You must be Iden, Mary just told me about you” He said.
Iden blushed realizing he never did ask the name of the receptionist, she must’ve thought him so rude.
“Uh--yeah, I’m new here, I guess.” Iden didn’t know what to say. So that was all he did say.
“Well I’m Quint, I guess we’re sharing a room.”
“I guess so.”
Iden laid back and just thought about the events that transpired, finally realizing just how tired he was, he passed out.
The next day began at nine in the morning. Iden woke up with Quint already gone to school, like everyone else. He walked out to the cafeteria, Mary was cleaning up breakfast. She told him she thought he should sleep in.
“Today we’re going to have you talk to a therapist, Iden. You can tell him how you’re feeling and what your life was like before you came to us.” She told him rather than asked in a matter of fact manner.
Iden didn’t say anything about it, he just accepted that it was what’s going to happen. He went to the common area and watched the television. It was a lifetime movie about an abusive father. He would drink at the bar, come home, beat his wife then his kids. One day the father went completely ballistic and murdered his whole family.
“They shouldn’t of pissed him off so much.” Muttered Iden.
It was only a short while later that Mary walked in followed by a tall, lean, man. He was bald with an impressive jawline and bore a friendly smile that made Iden feel uncomfortable. He extended his hand to Iden, who didn’t do the same.
Noticing Iden was too uncomfortable to talk about it Steve deducted he’d have to see Iden on a regular basis. Withholding this in“Hello Iden, my name is Steve. How are you?”
“Uh-hi I’m okay, I guess.”
“I’m going to be your therapist, I want to take you into the other room, ask you a few questions, and we’ll see if you will need to see my on a regular basis. Sound good?” Steve said this in such a disingenuous tone it almost angered Iden. The man started walking, motioning for Iden to follow and he did. They walked into a tiny room with a desk and a chair on either side of it. Both sat down.
“So Iden, it seems like you’re a bit of a mystery, tell me about yourself.”
“My name is Iden, I grew up in New York City with my dad in an apartment. Then he left me and I came here.”
“Isn’t there a little more to it than that? Like you grew up with your dad, where’s your mom?”
“Don’t know.” Iden had to choke it out of himself. Tears started to involuntarily stream down his face, despite his desperate attempts to combat them. Steve reached for a tissue and handed it to Iden. He wiped his eyes and stopped crying.
At first he asked, “How about you tell me what your dad did for a living instead?”
“He was a salesman.” The line was rehearsed.
It was clearly a stock answer. “What did he sell?” Steve was playing along.
“Cars.” Iden was saying the least he could.
“Interesting. How would you describe your relationship with your father?” Steve was prepared for the worst.
“I loved--love him.”
“And he loves you?”
Iden took a long pause then sighed before saying, “I--I don’t know, I mean I’m not a good kid. I guess--I guess that I wouldn’t if I were him.” He looked at the ground, afraid of what might transpire next.
“Why do you say that?”
Iden’s face turned red, his eyes narrowed at Steve. His fists clenched.
“Iden calm--” Steve couldn’t get out another word before Iden stood up and punched the wall as hard as he could. In his adrenaline fueled state, he left a hole in the wall. Iden’s hand hurt, but he wouldn’t tend to it out of embarrassment. Blood dripped from it.
“Oh geez.” Steve went on, “Here let me see it.” Steve took his hand and Iden let out an enormous scream and took his hand away.
“I think we have to go to the hospital.” Iden, defeated, looked at the ground, embarrassed by his inability to control himself.
They arrived at the hospital via an
ambulance. Once they checked in a nurse took him to a room where he was instructed to change into a robe. He was left alone and undressed, then redressed in his hospital wear. The nurse returned and took notice of the cuts lining his arms, she didn't say anything though, and just continued on normally. Once the x-rays were done and it was determined his hand was in fact broken. The doctor came in and explained they were going to have to realign his bones.
“Here take this. It will numb the pain.”
The doctor explained to Iden as he handed him a cup with two pills.
Iden’s heart began to race as soon as he looked at the two tiny capsules. “N-no thank you, I don't take pills.” Iden responded in a quiet tone, trying a little too hard to be polite.
“Well I can't make you take them but I
strongly urge you to, this will hurt a lot.” The doctor spoke mechanically. Iden just nodded his approval, and the doctor began his work. After about a half hour of intense pain, screaming, and clenching the doctor was finally done and the cast was set.
Mary had been in the waiting room
ready to meet him. They hit the road homebound.
“I'm not mad about the wall, but the nurse did tell me about your arm.” Her words echoed in her own ears more than Iden’s.
“So?” Was his only response.
“I think it would be best if we sent you to a psychiatric hospital for a little while. What do you think about that?”
“I don't like it, why should I? I'm not crazy you know. It's just a few cuts here and there. I had my reasons for making those cuts, I don't need to anymore. Besides it's not like you care, if you did you’d put up with me, but that's okay no one else has, so you shouldn't either.” Iden said this in the most polite, matter-of-fact way. It was as if someone asked him what the color of the sky was and he said blue because that's just the obvious fact of life.
“But I do care about you. That is why I want you to do this, but if you really don't want to go we could make a deal I suppose.” Her words surprised even her as she continued, “I'll check your arms myself every night to make sure there are no new cuts, and if I find one I'll have to send you away. You also must keep seeing Steve once a week, and I expect you to be completely honest with him. Do you understand?” She sounded desperate.
Iden was stunned, he didn't expect an offer to be made in his benefit. He graciously accepted.
*****
About a week and a half went by of this routine. Iden would wake up, relax, and watch tv until the rest of the boys came home. Then he would hide in his room until Mary came in to check on him. Wednesday's he would see Steve, he's only seen him twice so far, tonight is going to be the third time. But first he would wake up as he had the days before, this time Mary came in long before she normally would. She handed him a letter.
“I found that taped to the door this morning, I think it’s from your father. I didn’t want to open your mail.”
“Oh--uh--thanks--I--uh--guess” Iden stumbled out, with a puzzled look on his face. He put the letter under his pillow for later.
“There is something else I wanted to talk to you about, we’re going to have to get you into school soon.” Explained Mary, feeling sympathy for the boy.
“Really?! My dad didn’t want me going to school.” Iden was nearly jumping up and down at this news.
“Yes, it is quite odd that you have never attended school, your father shouldn’t have done that, but we’ll get you sorted out.” Mary’s tone changed from sympathetic to ecstatic quickly.
Iden hung out in his room for the rest of that day until his roommate came home. Quint was a small boy with brown hair that went ragged, uncaringly. He bore a necklace that looked like a religious medallion, Iden noticed this because it was similar to one his dad used to wear. Quint laid down on his bed as Iden laid on his.
“So...where did you get that necklace?”
“Oh,” Quint looked down and held it in his hand, “it was my mom’s.”
Without realizing it might breach social protocol Iden asked, “Did your mom die?”
“No,” he responded as nonchalantly as it was asked, “she just didn’t like me anymore.”
“Same with my dad, I think at least. He didn’t say why before he left.”
“My mom just gave me up, but I stole her necklace before she took me here.”
Every time Quint spoke about his mom his fists would clench, and he’d speak through gritted teeth. He’d stare in no particular direction.
Iden on the other hand, seemed apathetic, maybe numb when he spoke of his father. Quint appreciated Iden’s bluntness, he could never understand why adults would play word games, say one thing, mean another, beat around the bush. It isn’t something he was used to but enjoyed.
“I keep it so that I never forget what made me weak, so I never let my guard down.” Quint spoke with a seriousness, melancholy that nearly frightened Iden. But he understood.
Iden learned of Quint’s past. He was given up a year ago, occasionally his mother would write him letters. He hasn’t read a single one, he destroys them.
“Aren’t you curious about what she has to say?” Iden knew he was and it wasn’t even his mother.
“Nope, usually I just tear it up,” Quint leaned over to Iden and told him in a hushed tone, “but if I can I like to burn it.” Quint giggled feeling cool for his admittance to one of the big kids of breaking the rules.
“Wow!” Iden was hamming it up for the kid, “that’s truly badass.” Quint was feeling devilishly brazen now. Perhaps he said it on purpose or wasn’t thinking about it but Iden told Quint about the letter his father wrote him.
“I haven’t read it yet, I was going to do it when I was alone.”
“Screw that, he didn’t love you enough to stick around so you shouldn’t give him the time it takes to read his letter.” Quint was cocksure of himself. He reached behind his bed and brought out a small box of matches. “I say we burn it tonight, do you want to? It will make you feel better, I promise.” Quint whispered these last words.
Iden’s eyebrows raised at the thought. It did intrigue him. He was very anxious about reading it, maybe that would go away if he just burnt it. “Maybe we can, I’ll think about it.” Iden was unsure of himself but it was certainly something to think about.
By this time it was Iden’s appointment with Steve. He went back to the tiny office where they met the first time. Iden walked in to see Steve sitting at his desk. They greeted each other and went through the normal social formalities. Of course Steve brought up the scars that lined Iden’s arms.
“This isn’t something that is always simple, sometimes people do it and they don’t even really know why. What do you think your reasoning was?” Each word was handpicked and sewn together by Steve himself.
“I-I know exactly why I did it.” Iden said with his voice shaking a bit. More steady this time, “I wanted to make myself ugly to them.”
“To whom?” Steve questioned, suppressing his shock.
“My dad’s old ‘business partners’.” Iden’s face turned ghostly pale. He began to shake almost convulsively. Iden took a deep breath, closing his eyes and calmed himself down.
Steve knew. There was no hiding it now. He knew Iden’s dirty little secret. Iden realized his body betrayed him and gave it away. He was barely able to pipe up with the faintest voice, “Don’t tell anyone.”
His voice unbroken, “No one has to know yet.” Steve smiled at Iden, comforting him. Iden requested to change the subject and Steve complied.
“So do you feel like talking about your mom yet?” Steve asked, knowing he was really pushing it.
Iden finally broke. Tears streamed down his face, he was silent as he cried, trying to hide the obvious fact. His face was red, even as he cried he felt ashamed of himself for it, crying that is. Iden screeched, “I KILLED HER, OKAY?!” Then quieter, “I killed her. I killed her. I killed her..” He chanted it as he rolled into a ball sobbing.
Steve knew their appointment was over after that, he felt partially responsible for Iden’s current state. He pushed his emotional limits a little too far.
Steve let him cry until he was able to recompose himself, and Steve dismissed Iden from his office, bidding him goodbye until the next week.
Iden walked out of Steve’s office to find Quint waiting for him outside.
“Hey man, are you okay?” Quint had a distressed look on his face.
“Did you hear any of that?” Iden’s stomach began to sink. Quint was flushed and Iden had his answer. He knew he had to explain a little bit more about his mother to Quint. He told Quint all about how when he was born there was some difficulty that caused her to hemorrhage uncontrollably until she was no longer alive. Iden didn’t realize that it wasn’t truly his own fault, it had been hammered in by his father his entire life that it was. Quint realized it wasn’t Iden’s fault but his attempted explanations were in vain.
“Well do you want to let off a little steam, if you catch my drift.” Quint’s sly remark was met with a good-humored laugh by Iden.
“Sure buddy, I think that might be what I need now.” Iden and Quint returned to their room. Iden got his letter out and Quint dug up his matches.
“How do we do this?” Iden asked confused at not seeing a trash can of any sort.
“I just light it on the ground then step on it before it gets too big” Quint explained. It seemed to be good enough for Iden as he gave a nod of approval. The boys got on their knees on the ground. Iden held out the corner of his letter for Quint. The match was lit as the smell of rotten eggs filled their nostrils. The letter was slowly engulfed in flames. Once it got a little too big for comfort, they stomped it out. The boys gathered the ashes and remains of the letter and threw it in the trash in the lobby area.
“I think that did help.” Iden told truthfully to Quint. That was an understatement. Iden felt liberated, like he had been stuck underwater for the longest time, and as reality began to fade to black, he got his first gulp of fresh air. Once they returned to their room Iden slept like a baby.
Quint woke up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. Once he stood up and was a bit more awake, he smelt smoke. Not completely believing it, Quint stepped out into the hall following the source. Rather than another reasonable explanation he had hoped for, he was met by flames at the end of the hall. Quint quickly went to the bathroom and climbed out the window, forgetting about Iden.
Quint went to the front of the building. Waiting for him was the rest of the residence and Mary. Iden was the only one left inside.
It was the smoke that woke him. Iden’s body shot up, he knew exactly what it was. His father still couldn’t let him go. He climbed up out of the trash and moved towards Iden. Iden went into the hall about 3 yards from the flames, staring at his father. Iden ran to him and embraced him in a hug. He knew his father never really abandoned him. He took Iden away from it all. Forever.